I'll Be Home for Christmas
by clagjanet
Summary: In 1944, the war has separated Matthew and Jennie and with Christmas approaching, Jennie is hoping for a miracle. Forty-three years in the future, Lee and Amanda are hoping for the same.
1. 1987 (Lee)

**December 1987**

"Any word yet?"

Billy looked up to see Francine standing in his office doorway, concern written all over her face.

"From Lee? You know there isn't – I would have told you already if I knew anything," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sorry," he sighed seeing her grimace at his sharp tone. "I shouldn't be snapping at you, but this is always the worst part: the endless waiting when you can't do a damn thing."

"They told Lee home by Christmas, right?" replied Francine trying to sound encouraging. "They wouldn't lie about that, would they?"

"You know as well as I do that's only a song, not reality, Francine, and in this business, I've learned not to expect anything but the worst," Billy spread his hands and frowned.

"Now come on, stop that! I'm the official cynic around here, and even I can't believe that Fate could be that cruel, not at Christmas," she retorted. "Not when the family is counting on it and definitely not after all they've been through. Scarecrow is overdue for his happily ever after and a proper family Christmas, and we both know he'll do anything to get it."

"But there's not much he can do in this situation except see it through, is there? Him and Amanda both."

"She's been really brave about this all, hasn't she?" said Francine. "I know I spent a lot of years giving her grief about living in the real world, but she's been a real trouper in the face of all this, even though I'm sure she must be frantic – I don't think I could have done it."

"Well, she doesn't want the boys to worry, so she's been downplaying it, I think. Sort of making it sound like one of those film shoots she used to tell them about when she and Lee were off somewhere…" Billy slammed his fist down on the desk. "I hate this! Why isn't there anything we can do?"

"We've done everything we can, Billy." Francine walked around his desk to lean down and give him a hug. "Now we just have to believe in Christmas miracles."

"Do you think the two of them have another one left?" he asked.

"I think they make their own," she answered. "And I don't think there is anything that will keep Lee and Amanda apart this Christmas."

* * *

Lee's mind drifted back to the story in his mother's diary, from the days when she and his father had met, but the war was still raging in Europe and the Pacific – long before he was anything but a gleam in his dad's eye.

"I'll be home for Christmas," Matthew had promised his Jennie and she'd clung to that hope for months, alone while he moved across the continental battle lines like a shadow, stuck waiting and praying until that miraculous day when he'd finally found his way back into her arms.

"The waiting is the worst part," she'd written in her diary. "And the nights, and the days, and the worrying, and the not knowing, and then the waiting again."

Lee stared down at his hands as they tapped an incessant rhythm on his knees, their colour distorted by the sickening green walls and the fluorescent lighting in the tiny room. Normally he'd be pacing but he'd exhausted himself already, measuring out the four strides he could make to one wall before having to spin and walk back and take the same four strides to the opposite wall. His mother was right – there was nothing worse than not having your own fate in your hands and waiting on other people to act.

"Hang on, Amanda," he muttered. "Home by Christmas, they said. You just hang on – we'll have our own Christmas miracle, you hear me? Hang on."


	2. 1944

**December 1944**

Jennifer sat on the hard wooden bench on the station platform, clutching her ticket tightly between her fingers and praying. Room on trains was still always reserved for troops and she had already had to miss the last two trains back to London because of it. But this train from York was the last one that would get her back to London in time for Christmas… in time for Matthew to make good on his promise. She couldn't really believe that he'd make it back – they were in the middle of a war after all – but she just couldn't take the chance that he would only to find she wasn't there.

Almost unconsciously, she opened her purse and checked to see that the bundle of letters was still there. She sighed with relief. The thin stack of envelopes, carefully tied together with a satin ribbon was indeed safe in its accustomed spot. They were all looking a little worn, not surprising how often she'd opened and re-read each one so many times.

They had come far and few between – a few long ones but mostly just short notes written when he had a chance to get something to her. He'd left in early May, secretive but almost vibrating with excitement in that way that told her he was headed off to do something big, something worthwhile, something dangerous.

"Don't worry, Honey – I'll be back before Christmas," he'd teased her.

"That's what every soldier had told every girl since the beginning of time," she'd scolded him.

Matthew had taken her in his arms and hunkered down a little so that his sparkling hazel eyes were looking into hers. "But I mean it," he said softly. "I will be home for Christmas."

"You can't make a promise like that," she'd answered tremulously. "We both know that."

"Jennie, my brave darling girl – I can and I will. Nothing will keep me away. I will follow the breadcrumbs home to you, if it's the last thing I do."

It had been a few weeks later, when the news came of the beach landings in Normandy, that she'd finally understood where he was and what he was probably doing. It gave her hope - with the invasion over and the Germans on the defensive, maybe he was right – it would all be over soon and he'd be back. So she had sat back and waited for news. And waited. And waited.

The panic had set in and she'd actually braved the office of the American Army Intelligence Division to try and get news of him. They'd denied everything of course, denied they were Intelligence, denied they knew where he was, actually pretty much denied they knew of him at all. She had turned, biting her lip to keep from crying and had set off back down Whitehall, when a young American army captain had jogged up behind her, pulling something out of his pocket.

"Miss Hamilton?" he'd stammered. "I, uh, we're not supposed to do this – it's against about 136 different regulations but Matt and I had kind of a deal…" He held out the small envelope. "If you came looking, I promised him I'd give you that."

Jennie stared down at the letter in her hand, torn between elation and terror. "Is he alright? Or were you only supposed to give this to me if…?"

"Oh gosh, no!" the young officer had apologized, as he understood what she was asking. "Nah, this is the one if you came looking. He wasn't sure you would-" He paused and grinned at the flash of anger on Jennie's face. "But he said if you did, I should make sure you got that." He looked over his shoulder nervously back at the door to the American offices. "Look, I really shouldn't say this, but he's probably not going to be able to write for a bit… he's, um, well… he's not going to be near any regular post offices for a little while."

"But he's alive?"

"Yeah – he checked in this morning. I can't say from where but he's okay for now."

_For now_. Jennie tried not to let that qualification bother her. God knew, every girl with a boy across the Channel right now felt that same way. She needed to be as brave as Matthew told her she was.

"Thank you, Captain," she murmured.

"Call me Wally – and Miss Hamilton? I'll let him know you came looking. We kinda have a code," he added sheepishly.

"A code?"

"Yeah, he's Hansel and you're Gretel. We figured the Krauts wouldn't notice it so much if we used German names. Good, huh?"

_I will follow the breadcrumbs home to you._ Jennie felt the tears spring to her eyes as she realized Matthew had set this all in place long before he'd left. "That's really good," she managed to choke out. "Thank you so much."

"If you wanna come by from time to time to check in, you know, if he can't get a letter out, you just ask for me," the captain said earnestly. "Walter Burke – they'll find me."

"You'll be there? You won't get sent… anywhere?" she asked him, curious.

"Not for now – I'm good at languages, but not speaking them. I wouldn't last two minutes across the Channel before I mispronounced something," he grinned. "But codes and ciphers and plans?" he tapped his head. "Those are my real languages."

"Mine too," she confided. "I studied to become a librarian, because the colleges don't think women can do maths, but sometimes I just look at things and you know… I can just see the patterns and oddities…"

"Wow – you know the SIS is looking for girls like you," he caught himself as her eyebrow went up. "Ladies like you," he corrected himself.

"I know," she admitted. "And Matthew even got me an interview with someone. But it turns out there are a lot of very smart ladies like me out there and they already have all the smartest ones." She grimaced with disappointment. "So I work at the Ministry of Food, helping weed out black marketeers and ration card abuse."

"Hey, we all do what we can, right?" He glanced back over his shoulder again. "Look I gotta go, but if I hear anything, I'll let you know, okay?"

"Thank you!" she called after him as he began to run back to his office.

She couldn't wait any longer, she stepped sideways to lean against the nearest building and carefully opened the letter.

_Dearest Jennie,_

_If you are reading this, I'm not home to you as quickly as I'd hoped. But please know, my darling, know that I am doing everything to do so. Wherever I am, I'm missing you – your smile, your voice, your kisses… _

_Wally is a good friend – he'll look after you for me until I can get back and maybe you can do the same for him – no matter what tales he spins you, don't be fooled, he's missing home too._

_I can't tell you where I am but I'll do my best to get back to you. You know what the man said: "the problems of two little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world" and with rationing, we don't even have franks to go with them._

_Home by Christmas, I swear._

_I love you. Matthew_

She turned to continue her walk up Whitehall towards the Tube station with a light heart. It wasn't much but it was enough – Matthew was alive.


	3. 1944 (Jennie)

It took a long time before she got news again but then the letters began to drop through her letterbox with an odd kind of regularity. They were usually written on paper ripped out of a notebook of some kind and the envelopes were never in his handwriting; she soon realized he must be smuggling them out from somewhere and other people were mailing them. They were bland, just a line or two about how he missed her or home or how he was worrying about his younger brother, but they were like treasure to her, to know he was alive and every one of them finished with "I love you".

It was the third letter where she noticed the odd phrasing in a sentence and began to wonder if he was writing more than was apparent. She went back to the first letter and read it again with new eyes.

"_We don't even have franks to go with them."_

"_I miss your perfume,"_ the second one read. _"The one I smell here is nowhere near as nice."_ She looked at the third letter. _"I feel like Wimpy, just waiting to get home and go to my favorite joint"_. They seemed harmless and yet… Her eyes widened and she raced to pull out the map of Europe that she had pored over so many times, following the news, especially since D-Day.

"Perfume," she muttered. "Cologne maybe?" She let her finger slide across the map. "Wimpy, Wimpy, Wimpy…" she pondered. It took her a moment to place the name from the Popeye cartoons. "I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today!" she muttered as her finger skittered up the page to northern Germany and the port of Hamburg. Then back down to Frankfurt… "_franks to go with them_"

She sat back, almost crying with relief. Matthew was telling her where he was – and every letter let her know he was still safe.

Sometimes they were longer and on Army issue paper – he was obviously moving back and forth across the battles lines, but whenever he could manage it, the letters came, even though she couldn't answer except to meet Wally at the USO club to let him know she was fine as well so that maybe he could find a way to pass that along to Matthew.

The weeks stretched out to months, and to add salt to the wound of missing him, by late autumn, the dance clubs were filled with the constant sound of Bing Crosby's new song "I'll be Home for Christmas" even though it was still only October. Every time she heard it, it took everything she had not to burst into tears, but her weekly night out with Wally was her lifeline to Matthew and she clung to it fiercely. Wally looked after her like a big brother, warning off the soldiers who might try to cross the line and supplying her with the chocolate bars from his rations. She knew there were people who thought they were dating, but Wally had a girl back home that he missed more than anything in the world – she swore she knew more about Ruby Watson than her own mother just from the amount of things Wally told her during their nights out. It was okay though – they kept each other cheerful through it all, and counted off the days until this whole thing would be over.

* * *

In early December, when Wally didn't show up for their usual evening out, she went to find him at his offices. At first, as usual, no one would admit anything, but by sheer persistence, she finally found out he'd been admitted to St. Stephen's Hospital with influenza. She had then spent the better part of her evening working her way across town to find him, feverish and with laboured breathing but well enough to be embarrassed at being caught out in a sick bed.

"They didn't want to put me in an army hospital in case I infected any of the real wounded," he wheezed. "There's a whole bunch of us here." he waved around the dormitory style hospital room which had extra beds stuffed in it, all of them with men in various stages of flu recovery.

"Can I do anything for you?" she asked.

"Nah, the nurses here are great," he said, "but I'm glad you're here…" His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper and he gestured for her to lean closer. "I think he might be back soon. Maybe not for Christmas but soon."

"Really?" She had to keep herself from squealing it out loud.

"I've been reading between the lines on the messages but I think so." Wally fell back on his pillow, obviously exhausted even from this short conversation.

"Thank you, Wally," she said, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "You're the best friend ever."

"Aw, get away," he muttered, flushing with embarrassment now as well as fever. "You'll catch something doing stuff like that."

"I probably can't make it here every day to visit," she said, squeezing his hand. "But you make sure to tell me when you get out of here and I'll boil you up a lamb chop just like Mother used to make."

Wally looked at her uncertainly, not sure if she was serious or not. "If my mother had made that, I woulda left home even without a war," he grumbled.

"I'm teasing," she smiled down at him. "You know my ration card doesn't let me get anything as fancy as a lamb chop."

"When this is all over, and you and Matt are living in America and have a passel of kids – I promise I'm going to take you all out for dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria," Wally replied. "When this is all over…" Exhausted, he drifted off mid-sentence, falling sound asleep.


	4. 1987 (Amanda)

"Home for Christmas," muttered Amanda. "That what they said and I choose to believe them." She didn't sound very convincing even if she was only trying to convince herself.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling, the weight of the blankets almost as heavy as the worry that consumed her. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself but her chest was too constricted and she could only manage shallow ones. She tried not to let that panic her, pulling up every Agency calming technique she could think of.

"Amanda, don't be ridiculous!" she scolded herself. "I know you usually do things as a team, but this time, you have to rely on yourself. Now, the Russian Army and a German assassin have both tried to ruin Christmas and failed! You can get through this too! Lee expects you to be brave and you will not let him down!"

The ceiling started to look even more blurry and she wiped her eyes again. She closed her eyes, pictured Lee's smiling face and tried to even her breathing.

_Home for Christmas they said_, she chanted in her head. _Home for Christmas_.


	5. 1944 (continued)

Jennie was counting the days until Christmas. Even though Wally had said he didn't think it would be that quick, she repeated Matthew's promise to herself like a catechism. She tried to ignore the fact that the letters had stopped coming – there'd been interruptions before and if he was behind enemy lines… With Wally still convalescing, she had no way to get any news but clung to the fact that she'd heard nothing to the contrary as a reason to be optimistic.

It was the 19th of December when she'd received the letter. It had nothing on it except her name and the address of the war office where she worked in smudged typewritten letters, but even then it had the look of officialdom and her heart seized, thinking it must be news about Matthew. It took a moment and then she shook herself – no one knew they were together except Wally and he wouldn't have sent anything so impersonal. Ripping it open, she found it was a request to report to Gower Street for an interview that evening. She recognized the address from her previous visit there – the office of the Secret Intelligence Service.

She presented the letter to a stone-faced receptionist that night, fearful of what they might want with her. There were many people who disapproved of English girls dating the American soldiers and for all she knew, she was here to be reprimanded for fraternizing with American spies. Instead, she was ushered into an office inhabited by a genial white-haired man who introduced himself as Mr. Jones.

"Not my real name, of course," he twinkled at her. "But it will do for now." He tapped the file folder that was open on the desk in front of him. "I suppose you're wondering why you're here."

Jennie nodded. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Other than accept a remarkable amount of chocolate bars from your American friends?" he grinned at her. "No, in fact quite the opposite. Your name came up recently because we're looking for some specific help. Mr. Smith remembered interviewing you after one of our American colleagues recommended you. He said you'd been deputized and performed admirably only to be foiled by the near-sightedness of the dunces down at the Prime Minister's office when you tried to deliver some vital intelligence."

"I wouldn't say dunces, Sir," she demurred.

"Oh I would," he replied cheerfully. "The stories I could tell you about some of their schemes… there was one that about using icebergs as aircraft launch pads that defied belief. But I shouldn't be telling you that, should I?"

"No, Sir," she agreed. "Loose lips and all that."

"Exactly," he beamed. "Now the thing is – we need to get some information delivered to Liverpool and it can't go through any of the usual channels. We need to use someone who is completely unknown and who has good reason to be where we need them to be."

"I don't understand," Jennie began.

"Of course you don't, I haven't explained it yet," Mr. Jones said patiently. "We think some of our communications lines are being intercepted and this message must get through without being compromised in any way. As I said, Mr. Smith remembered not only being very impressed with you but also that you have family up north?"

"Yes Sir, but-"

"Excellent. We're going to arrange for you to be summoned up there and need to travel immediately. Your mother will have an accident, I think. Oh, not a real one," he went on seeing her look of horror. "No need for that level of realism, m'dear. You'll just get a letter and need to leave right away – except you'll actually be carrying something for us."

"But Sir – my job with the Ministry…"

"Miss Hamilton," he gazed at her over his spectacles. "We're the Intelligence Service – do you honestly think we can't arrange for you to be given compassionate leave to check on your poor ailing mother?"

"I suppose not, Sir," she answered weakly.

"Good. You'll be receiving the news tomorrow– do try and look suitably upset, won't you?" He reached into his desk and pulled out a large envelope, shaking out the contents onto his desk. "Now, here is money for your fare – you'll need to be on the afternoon train. The day after tomorrow at 2 pm, we need you to go have tea at Mrs. Bradford's Tea Shop on Harrison Lane– do you know Liverpool well enough to find it?"

Jennie nodded, still just trying to keep up with everything he was saying.

"You will take this book," he held up a slim volume of poetry. "Someone will knock against your table and in the ensuing chaos, they will swap their book with yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think so, but-"

"But?"

"This all seems very complicated," she said. "Sending me all the way there just to spend two minutes exchanging a book…"

"It seems that way," said Mr. Jones. "But it's also very simple – we need someone we can trust and that has no connection to any of our people. It's vital this information gets through without the enemy even knowing we're on the move with it."

"I see," Jennie nodded. "And no one ever looks at the girl, do they? We're invisible."

"Exactly," he agreed. "You really are a most perceptive young lady. Now, can we count on you?"

"Of course! Except…" she paused, trying to gather her courage. "How long will I be gone? It's just that it's Christmas in a few days…"

"Oh you should be back for Christmas," he waved off her worries. "Once you get that delivered, you can come back to London."

"I can? Right away?"

"Of course, m'dear. We can't keep you away from your job for long now, can we? People might starve without the correct ration booklets."

Jennie stared at him to see if he was mocking her but detected only a teasing glint in his eyes. "Thank you, Sir," she said, standing up. "Will I need to contact you when I'm done?"

"Oh no, we'll know if you succeed," he answered with a smile. "Or if you fail."

"Of course you will," she murmured.

"Safe travels, Miss Hamilton. If everything goes to plan, we may be able to use you again – if you're inclined to help."

"Of course, Sir. We all have to do our part, don't we?" she replied with a wry look.

"I like you, Miss Hamilton," smiled Mr. Jones. "I hope we'll meet again."

Jennifer stood up, clutching her purse to her. "I'm not sure yet whether I can say the same, Mr. Jones."

His dry chuckle followed her out the door.

* * *

Now here she was, mission accomplished with surprising ease and on her way back to London. The trains from Liverpool had all been full, but one of the harried ticket clerks had suggested she travel east to York and catch a London train from there, since there weren't as many soldiers away from the coasts and the influx of troop ships. She liked American soldiers – even loved one – but right at the moment, they were certainly everywhere and taking up every space. It just wasn't possible that Matthew might come home and she wouldn't be there to greet him. She'd sent Wally a quick note to say she'd been called away and that he shouldn't worry, so she knew Matthew would know she'd be back but still…

She heard the far off whistle of the train and the voice of the station porter calling out its arrival. She jumped to her feet, determined to get on this train.

"Don't you worry, Miss," said a cheerful voice beside her. "You'll get on this one! Most everybody's already where they need to be already. It's Christmas Eve, you know!"

She looked at the porter who'd been watching her wait here most of the morning, with no room on the last two trains. "Well, not everybody. I still need to get home!"

"Got a boy waiting?" he smiled.

"I hope so," she replied.

The train slowed in front of her and she swung herself up onto the steps almost before it had come to a full stop.

"Good luck then!" called the porter after her. "Happy Christmas!"

"And to you!" she called back.

A few moments later, she relaxed back into the uncomfortable seat of the second class carriage, letting her head fall back along the top of the bench. "Home by Christmas," she muttered to herself. "I'll be home by Christmas."


	6. 1987 (Dotty)

"Any news, Grandma?"

Dotty looked up at her grandsons who had just burst into the back door, home from school. "Nothing yet, but I'm sure we shouldn't worry. I'm sure Lee will be back soon enough and everything will be back to normal."

"Christmas is only a week and a half away," said Jamie, chewing his cuticle worriedly. "What if… I mean, we should all be together at Christmas, shouldn't we?"

"I'm sure we will be, Darling," said Dotty, reaching to pull his hand away from his mouth and then reel him in for a hug. "Your mother said we shouldn't worry, didn't she? And mothers always know best."

"But _you_ look worried," said Philip perceptively.

"Ah well," said Dotty, trying to sound cheerful. "Mothers always worry too, even when we know we shouldn't." She tousled his hair. "I'm sure we'll get news soon, and we'll all be together for Christmas. Your mother promised, didn't she?"

"Yeah," agreed Philip morosely.

"Well then, how about you two go start up your homework and I'll make some hot chocolate?" She gave them both a quick wink. "I bought our own bag of marshmallows and hid it from your mother."

Both boys began to laugh. "Way to go, Grandma!" hooted Jamie.

"Off you go and put your coats away – properly, not just slung over the bannister – and get your homework out." As the boys raced to do as they'd been asked, Dotty drifted back into the kitchen, starting the preparations to make the promised hot chocolate, but with one eye on the phone.

_Please call soon and tell me the news is good, _she prayed silently_. Please let us all be together for Christmas._


	7. 1944 (Matt)

Matt wasn't quite running when he left the offices of the Army Intelligence Corps after his debriefing, but he might just as well have been. Back in uniform and properly showered and shaved for the first time in months, he drew a lot of admiring glances from passing women as he strode down the street, but he didn't notice as his long legs ate up the distance to the Ministry of Food offices where Jennie worked.

He'd looked for Wally as soon as he'd arrived at the office that morning, to find out how she was doing, but apparently he was in hospital somewhere and "that pretty girl hadn't been around to visit" since then. The pitying looks that accompanied that comment hadn't bothered him – he knew both of them well enough not to be concerned by how other people saw their friendship. And he'd go find Wally and visit him soon – right after he went to find Jennie at the spot they always met when she came out of work at the end of the day. He didn't know if she was expecting him but he couldn't wait to see her face when she saw him there waiting.

Whistling jauntily, he crossed the street and checked his watch – she should be out in five minutes, which gave him plenty of time to station himself at their spot. He rounded the last corner and stopped dead. Chester House was gone – well, not gone, but where there had been a four storey Georgian office building, there was now a pile of rubble and a beehive of workmen, shifting bricks and beams. Matt grabbed one as he passed, asking "What happened?"

"What do you think happened, mate?" replied the workman, rolling his eyes. "The bloody Germans happened, din't they?"

Matt bit back a retort – the man was right, it was obviously a direct hit from a V2 rocket. "When did it happen? Was anyone hurt?" He looked around at the rubble and gulped. "I know a girl who works here…"

The workman's expression shifted to something more sympathetic. "A couple of days ago. Out of a clear blue sky from what I heard."

"Do you know if…" Matt couldn't finish the sentence as he stared around the bomb site.

"Nah, sorry, mate," answered the workman. "The ambulances and whatnot are long gone by the time they call us in."

"Matt! Matt!"

He swung around with relief at the sound of his name, his eyes sweeping the crowd for Jennie, but it was another girl his eye lighted on, her work friend Barbara who was waving furiously at him as she raced up the street. He realized a heartbeat later that he should have known it wasn't Jennie – she always called him by his full name.

"Matt! You're back! How wonderful! Jennie must be so happy!?"

"Well, I haven't seen her yet," he answered, gesturing toward what used to be their workplace. "I just came looking for her."

Barbara frowned slightly. "She must still be at home. I haven't seen her since this happened and I just assumed she was in one of the other offices we're working out of."

Matt's heart had begun to thud painfully. "Was she here when this happened?"

"You know, I'm not sure…" Barbara concentrated, then looked back at him worriedly. "It was just past nine in the morning when the rocket hit and we usually meet for tea break at ten… I didn't see her after, but we had different assigned muster points and I didn't think about it. We were all sent home and told to wait until we were told where the offices would open up next. I just came down to see the damage." She chewed her lip and stared at the devastation. "Oh Matt, do you think…?"

"I won't believe it until I hear it for certain," he said, wheeling away. "I'm going to check her flat. If you hear anything, send me a message at the Army offices!"

Thirty minutes later, he was at Jennie's door, panicking slightly at the lack of response.

"Is that you, Captain Stetson?" asked a voice from the window above.

Matt stepped back and tilted his head to look up at Mrs. Humphries who lived in the flat above.

"Yes Ma'am, it is," he answered. "I just got back and I'm looking for Jennie."

"Oh my, I haven't seen her in a few days," said the elderly woman. "I usually see her leaving for work in the mornings, but I don't think I've seen her since…" she trailed off to think while Matt held his breath. "Tuesday evening, I think. She came in later than usual."

"You haven't seen her since then?"

Mrs. Humphries shook her head. "No. I did hear her though – she went out early on Wednesday morning. Earlier than usual – they're probably having to get things done before Christmas, aren't they? That'll be keeping them busy with the rationing and all."

"Wednesday?" Matt repeated, heart sinking. "You haven't seen her since Wednesday?"

"No." Mrs. Humphries took in his wretched expression. "But don't you worry – she probably went home for the holidays or some such thing. She'll be thrilled to see you're back. Are you just on leave? Or back for good? I really thought we'd be done with all this by now you know – five years and those pesky Huns are still making our lives miserable. Thought we'd fixed 'em in the Great War, you know, but they just keep came back like a bad penny…"

Matt had turned and started to walk back up the steps to street level, his mind racing and his heart aching as the older woman chattered on. It just wasn't possible – how could he have survived months behind enemy lines unscathed only for Jennie to die in a random rocket attack? He stopped on the pavement and leaned heavily against the iron fence, hands gripping the railing in front of him.

"And of course, in the last war we didn't worry about all these rockets and whatnot. Back then it was zeppelins, but of course, they didn't move as fast as the planes do now – you should have been here during the Blitz – that was something. Of course, you Americans weren't in the war then yet, were you? It was so noisy every night, I have to admit there were times where I wished one of the blessed things would hit the house just so that I could get some rest. Oh, now there you go, here she comes, right as rain. She'll be that happy to find you here I'm sure…"

Matt looked up blearily at Mrs. Humphries, not sure where the meandering thread of her conversation had gone. Her gaze had shifted away from him and she was looking down the street. He straightened and turned in the same direction, hope rising.

_Jennie._

He could see her struggling along the street, carrying a small suitcase as she dodged the other people on the pavement, looking exhausted but determined.

"Jennie." This time he said it out loud, loud enough that she must have heard hit because her head jerked up and her eyes met his. She stopped dead as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing and he broke into a run.

"Matthew!" The suitcase fell to the ground, forgotten, in the same beat that he reached her and swept her up into his arms, hugging her fiercely. They clung to each other for several seconds, just happy to be back in each other's arms before their lips met in a long kiss. The sidewalk traffic of neighbours headed home from work on Christmas Eve, flowed around them like water, everyone happy that tomorrow was a day off work and smiling to see a happy couple reunited for the holidays.

Matt released his grip and began dropping light kisses across her face. "Oh my Jennie – don't ever frighten me like that again!"

"Frighten you? What on earth are you talking about?" she laughed, kissing him back.

"I thought… never mind, I'll explain it later. I'm just so happy you're here."

"Of course I'm here – someone promised to be home by Christmas – I couldn't very well not be here too, could I?" She beamed and pulled him in for another close embrace, snuggling her face into the collar of his jacket so that she could breathe in his familiar scent. "You kept your promise."

Matt's face was buried in her hair – her hat had come off sometime during their embrace. "I love you, Jennie."

"I love you too, Matthew."


	8. 1987 (Home)

Lee had almost drifted off to sleep despite his discomfort when a motion woke him and he leapt to his feet to find himself face to face with Dr. Samuels.

"Amanda?"

"Is fine," said the surgeon with a broad smile. "We were able to relieve the pneumothorax without having to do anything drastic. It looks like we were right about the gunshot injury last February weakening the lung wall, but we tried a simple fix first and it seems to have done the trick."

"A simple fix? You thought she was looking at major surgery!" Lee replied in shock.

"Well, we thought it might be necessary," conceded Dr. Samuels. "But first we tried relieving the pressure by removing the air around her lung with a needle, and her breathing has already improved. That might be enough to let it heal completely on its own, but at minimum, it means we won't need to think about surgery for a long time yet, if ever."

"She's going to be alright?" Lee asked. He needed to hear it again.

"Oh yes," said the doctor. "She'll be kept in for a few days for observation, but I see no reason why she wouldn't be home by Christmas to recuperate there, just like we promised."

"Home by Christmas," echoed Lee. "She'll be home by Christmas!" He gave a happy whoop and grabbed the doctor's hand to shake it. "When can I see her?"

"Oh, she's probably ready to see you right now," smiled the doctor. "Recovery Room Two."

Lee didn't need to be told twice, ducking around the doctor and sprinting down the hall. He slowed down enough to keep himself from bursting into her room, but his arrival was still noisy enough to have Amanda's eyes fluttering open.

"Hey, you," she said softly.

"Hey, yourself," he answered, coming nearer to take her hand. He studied her for a moment- the doctor was right, her colour was already improved from the slightly ashy tinge it had had the last few weeks as she'd fought to breathe properly – then leaned in to press his lips against hers. "You look beautiful," he murmured.

"You look pretty good yourself," she chuckled drowsily. She squeezed his hand. "They said I could go home in a few days."

"Yeah, Dr. Samuels told me," he smiled at her, fingers tracing her cheek as he gazed at her. "Home for Christmas, just like they promised."

"Just like they promised," she echoed. "Have you told Mother yet? She'll be worried."

"Not yet," he answered. "I wanted to see you first. But I'll call her. And Billy and Francine too. Maybe even the Colonel. "

Amanda gave an exhausted squeak of laughter. "That's good." She lapsed into silence, her eyes drifting shut. "I love you," she murmured sleepily.

"I love you too," Lee whispered. He knew he should get up and call everyone, let them know everything was going to be okay, but for now… for now, he would sit here and hold Amanda's hand as she slept and he'd make plans for their Christmas. At home. Together.


End file.
